Chapter 2 - The Silent Mobilization
By 4:00 AM, a black, unmarked ambulance arrived at the freight yard. Two men in tactical medical gear, completely silent and efficient, moved Dominic onto a specialized gurney. They didn't ask questions. They knew the rules of Nocturne's network: you get paid double, you see half, and you speak nothing.
Maya followed the transport to a private clinic disguised as a veterinary supply warehouse in Cicero. Once Dominic was hooked up to a secure ventilator and blood transfusions were underway, Maya retreated to the adjoining office.
The television on the wall was muted, but the headlines flashed across the screen: SHIPPING MAGNATE DOMINIC BELLANDI MISSING AFTER FIERY EXPLOSION ON I-90.
Roman was thorough. He had staged a vehicle explosion to explain Dominic’s sudden disappearance, giving himself a window to consolidate power before the body—or lack thereof—became an issue.
Maya opened her secure terminal. She accessed the internal security cameras of the Bellandi estate in Lake Forest. The feeds showed Roman’s men patrolling the perimeter. They were already tossing the house, searching for the ledger—the encrypted hard drive that contained the routing numbers for the family’s offshore billions.
They wouldn't find it. The ledger wasn't in a safe behind a painting or buried in the wine cellar. It was currently sitting in the pocket of Maya’s trench coat, disguised as a worn, leather-bound book of classical poetry.
She dialed a number she knew by heart. It belonged to Marcus Vance, the head of Dominic’s legitimate logistics firm and one of the few men who genuinely respected Dominic’s vision.
“Marcus,” she said when the line connected.
A sharp intake of breath. “Maya? Mon Dieu, are you safe? The news is saying Dominic’s car—”
“Dominic is alive,” she interrupted, her voice cutting through his panic like a scalpel. “He is compromised, but he is breathing. Where are you?”
“I’m at the downtown office. Roman’s people are here, Maya. They’re demanding the shipping manifests for the north terminal. They’re saying Dominic was taken out by a rival crew from Detroit and that Roman is taking over administrative custody.”
“Do not sign anything,” Maya said. “Listen to me carefully, Marcus. In exactly ten minutes, the power to the downtown high-rise will fail. The backup generators will delay for ninety seconds. In that window, I want you to walk out of the building through the service elevator. A gray sedan will be waiting at the corner of Dearborn and Adams. Get in it.”
“Maya… what are you doing? Roman has fifty men in the city center alone. You can't face them.”
“I am not facing them, Marcus,” she said softly, looking at her reflection in the dark window. “I am removing them.”
She disconnected the call and tapped a command into her terminal. A localized cyber-strike hit the Commonwealth Edison grid for the loop district. On the monitor, the lights of the Bellandi Corporate Tower flickered and died.
May you like
Maya stood up, pulling a pair of sleek, black leather gloves over her hands. She checked the chamber of a suppressed Walther PPK, slipping it into the concealed holster inside her coat.
The traitors thought they were fighting a war for a throne. They didn't realize they had just walked into an extermination.
